Broken Hearts and Misplaced Dreams
by MaverickLover2
Summary: When a beautiful widow in black comes to town, Bart Maverick is one of many fascinated by her. What he doesn't know is that she seems fascinated with him. It doesn't seem to matter that he's already married to the enchanting Doralice.
1. The Arrival

Prologue – The Arrival

She got off the stagecoach one afternoon and you couldn't help but notice her. She was tall and lithe, built like a woman that would attract all manner of men, with dark black curls and startling blue eyes. She came with only one small suitcase, and she came alone. The desk clerk at the Little Bend Hotel looked up to see her standing in front of him and was sure he'd died and gone to heaven. It wasn't just that she was pretty; a lot of pretty women had come and gone in this town. There was something about her, something delicate and fragile, but with a backbone of steel. And when she smiled, a man didn't know whether to fall in love or get out of her way.

"Yes, I'd like a room, please," she told the clerk, who had to remind himself to close his mouth before he tried to speak.

"Yes, ma'am. And will your husband be joining you?"

"I have no husband, sir, I am a widow."

How sad, he thought. A creature so lovely, and so young, to already be a widow. He watched her sign the register. Mrs. Josephine Whitlock. "And how long will you be staying, Mrs. Whitlock?"

"Indefinitely, sir."

"I have a lovely room upstairs in the corner, with a view of the entire town. It comes with a sitting room. Would that be sufficient for your needs?"

"Quite sufficient, Mr. . . ?"

"Green, ma'am. Herbert Green. That will be room two-zero-one, and if you will allow me I will take your bag upstairs and unlock the room for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Green, that shan't be necessary." She took the key from his hand, picked up her suitcase and climbed the stairs. He watched her until she disappeared. He'd never seen anything like her in his entire life, and he couldn't wait to tell Betty Lou when she came by to pick up the outgoing mail.

Mrs. Josephine Whitlock unlocked the door to room two-zero-one and was surprisingly pleased with the accommodations. The two small rooms were bright and airy, much nicer than she had expected in a Texas town that was growing by leaps and bounds. Yes, this would do. It would do nicely.


	2. First Sighting

Chapter 1 – First Sighting

Mornings in the Maverick household were generally chaos. Bart Maverick, youngest of the Maverick sons, was the General Manager of Maude's Saloon, the biggest and brightest establishment within two hundred miles. Born and raised in Little Bend, Texas, he spent most of his adult life as a Professional Poker Player of some repute, recognized for his expertise and honesty. Bart knew all the ways to cheat at poker but employed none of them. He ran Maude's the same way . . . dishonesty was not tolerated, among the dealers or the customers. Tall and slender, with dark hair and what his father called 'dancing brown eyes,' there was no doubt he was not only one of the best looking men in town, but he had an easy grace about him that endeared him to most of the population – especially the female population.

He'd never expected to marry or settle down, but somewhere along the way he'd fallen head over heels in love with one of the true town beauties, Doralice Donovan. Blonde hair and aqua-blue eyes were just part of her assets – she was slender with a delightful giggle and an unquenchable love for Bart Maverick. They fit together perfectly. She was also Maude Donovan's only daughter.

There was nobody like Maude. Every bit as lovely as her look-alike daughter, she built Maude's up from scratch into the busiest saloon in central Texas. Known for running an honest establishment, she first met Bart when he walked into her place of business. Doralice had run away at sixteen and married into a wealthy Mexican family; the marriage lasted until her husband began drinking and whoring, and one night she killed him in self-defense. Doralice was sentenced to be hung by the Federales. Maude, in her desperation, convinced Bart to play Texas Ranger and rescue the beauty from the gallows, which he did while almost getting himself killed. Maude would remain forever in his debt but, even more important, she genuinely liked him. He was charming and funny and a true gentleman, and when he fell in love with Doralice she encouraged the union.

Bart began his sojourn at Maude's as the nighttime Floor Manager, tired of traveling from town to town to play poker, and wanting to spend more time with the beautiful and endlessly fascinating Doralice. Proximity turned into a forever love, and over the years came Assistant Manager, General Manager, and son-in-law.

Two years later the twins were born. Beautiful little girls that resembled their mother, their official names were Maude and Isabelle, for the two grandmothers. Isabelle Maverick had died when Bart was only five, and he took particular delight in the twins when they were born. Loving and precocious, by the time they were three and a half their brother Beauregard was added into the mix. Baby brother was now almost six months old, and Doralice had her hands full.

True, she had a full-time housekeeper/nanny/cook named Maria Elena who helped to make her life easier. She also had a five-bedroom house, an extremely fertile brown tabby cat named Lucy, a dog of indiscriminate breed they called Shorty, dozens of chickens and a cow in the backyard. And a part-time partnership with a carpenter named Pauly Wilcox. She'd been a bartender and bookkeeper for Maude's before the babies started coming.

On this particular morning, the lady of the house was feeling frustrated and frumpy. Not that she ever could be, just that she felt that way. Bart's older brother Bret had just married his ladylove, Pinkerton Captain Ginny Malone, in March, and Ginny was one of the great beauties of the world. Which was part of the reason she made such an excellent under-cover detective. No one would believe she was as deadly with a gun as any man in town. It was her glorious red hair and her brilliantly blue eyes, not to mention her to-die-for figure that had Doralice feeling frumpy. She'd just given birth the day after Christmas and found it difficult to regain her pre-baby shape before the wedding, although most of it had disappeared due to her hard work. Still, the word frumpy was the first thing that came to mind when she compared herself to the newest Mrs. Maverick.

So when the oldest twin, Maudie, stamped her foot this morning and told her mother, "No eggs! Flapjacks!" Bart knew that if he wanted to keep the peace he'd better do something in a hurry. Maudie was usually happy-go-lucky, but for some reason she picked this morning to be in a mood, and he knew better than to allow it to continue.

"I tell you what, Maudie, if you'll wait until Saturday for flapjacks, I'll take us all to breakfast at Sawyers. And if everyone really behaves themselves, we'll have a cup of hot chocolate with breakfast. How does that sound?"

Both twins smiled and nodded, and Doralice turned to her husband with a smile instead of the frown she'd started with. "Good save, daddy," she exclaimed, and everyone settled down, willing to eat eggs one more morning for breakfast.

Bart was running late and hurriedly swallowed the last of his coffee just as Maria Elena arrived. He kissed Doralice on the cheek and made a hasty dash for the door, closing it behind him just as Doralice murmured, "Coward."

"Damn straight," he muttered in reply on the far side of the door. He knew his wife was having a struggle balancing two small children and a six-month-old baby, especially with all the other demands on her time. Maybe it was time to look into splitting the job Maria Elena was doing into two pieces, and getting an honest to goodness nanny for the girls. There was an idea. He'd talk to her about it tonight when he came home. And to think that Doralice had considered going back to work at Maude's.

He was just getting ready to cross the street and stop at the bakery when he saw her for the first time. She'd been in town almost two weeks but kept mostly to herself; more than half the residents had yet to see her. This was Bart's first sighting, and what a sighting it was. She wore a black silk dress, with her long hair falling in waves down her back, her eyes brilliant as the sky. She wasn't quite as beautiful as Ginny Malone, but there was something about her that was dangerous. She seemed not to walk down the boardwalk, it was more like she undulated down it. Bart hurried across the street and held the door open to the bakery for her, and she murmured something appropriate and glided inside.

"Good morning, Mrs. Whitlock," Evan Sunday greeted her. "Your usual?"

"Yes, please, Mrs. Sunday. And could you steep the tea just a little longer this time? It was a bit weak yesterday."

"I'm so sorry. Of course, I would be happy to do that for you. It will be just a minute longer." Evan turned to her other customer. "And for you, Bart?"

"A sweet roll, please, Evan." Bart was inspired. "And if Mrs. Whitlock has no objections, I'd like to pay for her order, too. A 'welcome to the community' if you will." He saw nothing improper about the kindness. He was responsible for one of the largest businesses in Little Bend and was hoping to be appointed to the city council.

"While I appreciate the gesture, sir, I'm afraid that I cannot accept your kind offer. We have not been formally introduced, and I would not like to leave anyone, yourself included, with the wrong impression."

Evan Sunday had been listening to the exchange while she wrapped the sweet roll. "Mrs. Whitlock, this is Bart Maverick, he runs Maude's, and runs it honestly. Bart, this is Mrs. Josephine Whitlock, our newest resident. Here's your roll, Bart. I'll be right back with your tea, Mrs. Whitlock."

Bart tipped his hat to the lady in black. "I hope that you can accept my offer now, Mrs. Whitlock. That's about as formal an introduction as you're ever gonna get in these parts."

She smiled slightly, and for all intents and purposes the sun came out. "I do believe you are correct, Mr. Maverick, and in that case I will accept your gracious offer. And who says the West is uncivilized?"

Evan appeared with the tea and a small bag. "Your tea and croissant, Mrs. Whitlock."

"Thank you, Mrs. Sunday."

Bart hurried to hold the door open once again, and tipped his hat as she glided back onto the boardwalk. "Might I walk you to the hotel, Mrs. Whitlock?"

"That would be most pleasant, Mr. Maverick."

They walked in silence to the hotel, where Bart once again held the door for his new friend. "Thank you again, Mr. Maverick. Perhaps we shall meet again. This is a rather small town." And with that she disappeared inside and up the stairs.

"What a strange and beautiful woman," Bart thought as he took a bite of his sweet roll and headed for the front door of Maude's.


	3. A Different Perspective

Chapter 2 – A Different Perspective

It promised to be another beautiful day outside, and Doralice Maverick was determined to spend some time out in the yard, instead of cooped up all day inside the house. Indoors was where she'd spent most of the past six months; she had twin daughters that were on the verge of turning four years old and a six-month-old baby boy who demanded attention when he wasn't asleep. She felt like she hadn't seen anything but these four walls since last Christmas, the day before she gave birth to Beauregard. That was honestly the last time she remembered being outdoors.

"I'm going out in the yard, Maria," she called from the back of the house. Maudie and Belle were at their grandma's house, and Beauregard had just been fed and was sound asleep. It was now or never, she realized, and slipped through the open door before a wailing baby could keep her locked in once more. Everything was so bright and green back here . . . the hens were in the chicken coop and most of the baby chicks were tucked in and around Lucy the cat, sound asleep. It was their favorite place – Lucy wasn't happy unless she had something to mother, and if it wasn't kittens it was chicks. They, in turn, loved her soft fur, and whenever she was outside, she was surrounded by them. "Don't we have anything that's normal in this house?" she chuckled as she asked no one in particular.

When she and Bart were first married there was nothing behind the house but a dirt path and a grassy field. They'd bought what amounted to two full 'plots' from Jasper Willoughby, and it was fortunate they had. Now there was a dirt road and another row of houses where the empty fields used to be. Little Bend had grown considerably in the six years they'd been here, and it didn't look like it would slow down or stop anytime soon.

Still, she couldn't get used to people living a mere stone's throw behind her house. Bart had begun to get restless, talking about moving further out of town and buying some land; she liked the sound of that. She wanted more chickens, and a place where she and Pauly Wilcox could try building some of their inventions, and a spot where people didn't just turn the edge of your backyard into a street.

She was so consumed with her own thoughts that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching – only the feminine voice that seemed to come from nowhere. "The town is much bigger than it appears."

Doralice whirled rapidly to find a rather odd-looking woman on the far side of her fence. Dressed all in black with matching hair and startling blue eyes, she'd never seen the woman before. "I'm sorry, did I frighten you?" the lady in black inquired.

"Startled is more like it," she replied, with just a shade of petulance in her voice. "You must be the new lady in town."

"Yes, I suppose I must," was accompanied by a slight chuckle. "I'm Josephine Whitlock. Mrs. Josephine Whitlock. And you are?"

"Doralice Maverick."

"Mrs. Bart Maverick?"

"When I feel up to it, yes."

"I met your husband this morning. Charming man, I must say. Quite the gentleman. We had a small chat at the bakery, where Mrs. Sunday introduced us."

' _I just bet you did,'Doralice thought. 'You with your perfect hair and perfect eyes and perfect dress. And I'm sure Bart was a gentleman, because he is.'_ "I suppose he purchased a sweet roll."

"Why yes, he did. You know your husband well."

"And what about yours, Mrs. Whitlock?"

"I'm afraid there is no Mr. Whitlock. I'm a widow."

Well, that certainly explained the head-to-toe black. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Whitlock. Was it recent?"

"Six months ago. Right after Christmas."

"Oh, my. Our son was born the day after Christmas."

There was an ever-so-slight change in attitude. "How sweet. Your first child?"

Doralice shook her head and laughed. "My, no. We have four-year-old twin daughters."

"You must stay quite busy."

"I do. But it was such a lovely day that I had to get outside for a few minutes."

It appeared Mrs. Whitlock noticed Lucy and the chicks for the first time. Lucy, who seemed to love almost everyone, was glaring with unabashed disdain at the recent widow. "Goodness, your cat! He's going to eat the chicks!"

Doralice seemed undisturbed by the scene. "That's Lucy. She wouldn't hurt a fly, much less a chicken. She seems to think their hers." The unmistakable cry of Beauregard Julian Maverick split the air, and Doralice scrambled for the door. "Sorry, Mrs. Whitlock, that's the young man himself, insisting on immediate attention. It was lovely to meet you. I hope we have the opportunity to get to know each other better." And just that quickly, Doralice was gone. Mrs. Whitlock stood at the back fence for a few minutes before continuing on down the road.

Doralice found Beau wet and in need of a change. When she was almost finished, Maria Elena crept into the bedroom like a thief in the night. "Stay away from that one, Miss Dora. There is something not right about her." Before Doralice could ask a question, Maria Elena was gone. _'Something not right,'_ eh? Normally she'd pay no attention to Maria, but today . . . there was something about the woman that set her teeth on edge. She was curious to see just what her husband had to say about the 'poor widow Whitlock.'

XXXXXXXX

Bart stopped behind the bar and poured himself a cup of coffee to go with the remainder of the sweet roll in his hand. The Dandridge Bakery was still supplying a smaller version of the roll to Maude's every morning, but Bart had gotten in the habit of popping into the bakery when he wanted one so he wouldn't deplete the supply left at the saloon. Then he went looking for Willie.

The head bartender at Maude's, Willie Beacham had been telling the boss about the beautiful woman dressed in black that was living at the hotel ever since he'd seen her, the second or third day after her arrival in Little Bend. Bart couldn't wait to fill Willie in on his own encounter with Mrs. Whitlock. He found Willie sweeping out the storeroom. "Guess who I met this morning in the bakery?"

Of course, there was no guessing necessary. The lady in question had been the object of much speculation ever since her reclusive arrival some two weeks ago. "Did you really?" Willie questioned eagerly. "Was she still in black? Who is she?"

"She's still wearin' black alright, and her name is Mrs. Josephine Whitlock. Evan introduced us and I bought her breakfast. Kind of a 'Welcome to Little Bend' gesture. Then I walked her back to the hotel. She seems nice, but you can tell she's from back east somewhere. Got all them stiff, formal east coast manners."

"You should've invited her down here to see the place." Willie was hopeful, even though he probably knew it was wrong.

"Did you not hear me, Willie? She's a proper eastern lady. They don't go in saloons. I'm surprised she even allowed me to escort her back to the front door of the hotel."

"Is she as pretty up close as she is from across the street?"

"Prettier." Bart could see the porcelain skin, the hypnotic blue eyes, the thick and wavy black hair . . . and when she smiled, it was like sunshine after a rainstorm. "She's just the most exquisite creature."

"Prettier than Doralice?"

"Willie, you oughta know better than to ask a question like that. Ain't nobody prettier than Doralice. Never will be, far as I'm concerned. But Mrs. Whitlock sure does give her a run for her money."

"Did she say what she's in town for?"

Bart shook his head. "No, she didn't, but Evan Sunday called her 'our newest resident.' So it sounds like she's here to stay."

"Wouldn't that be somethin', boss? Sure would class up this town."

"Might outclass this town. Alright, Willie, I'll be in my office workin' on the books if anybody needs me." Bart picked up his coffee and headed for the back, with visions of a black silk dress and the lady wearing it playing about his head.


	4. Innocence Lost

Chapter 3 – Innocence Lost

The woman appeared out of nowhere, like a black phantom from another dimension, when Johnny Abrams was trying to get a particularly messy stall cleaned out. One minute he was alone, the way he preferred things, and the next minute she was standing there waiting for him. "Yes, Miss, can I help you with something?" He'd composed himself enough to ask politely.

"I need a carriage for the day, Mr. Abrams. Do you have one available?"

Now how did she know his name? Oh well, a customer was a customer. "Yes, Miss, I do indeed. That'll be twenty-five cents for the day, fifty cents if you bring it back after dark."

"That's agreeable, Mr. Abrams, and my name is Whitlock. Mrs. Josephine Whitlock." He continued to stand there staring at her. "Can I get that now, please?"

"Yes, ma'am. Comin' right up." He set his pitchfork down outside the stall and went about the business of getting one of the livery horses hitched to the buggy. When he was finished he returned to the task at hand. "There you go, Mrs. Whitlock. That'll be twenty-five cents, please." The exchange was made and he helped her into the driver's seat. "Do you need directions anywhere?"

"Where is the Maverick ranch?"

He snorted in derision. "Sure wouldn't call that no ranch, Misses. More like a dilapidated boardin' house. Follow this road and bend south when it splits in two. About two or three miles past that."

"Thank you." And before he could so much as bat an eye, she was gone. Strangest woman he'd ever seen.

XXXXXXXX

When Bart came home that night the house was eerily quiet. Maudie and Belle were still at their Grandma's house, and Beauregard was in his cradle, happily trying to suck on his toes. For the first time in weeks the adults in the house sat down to a meal uninterrupted by giggles, shrieks, or continuous wailing. "Is this what it was like? Before the twins were born?" Bart asked, trying to remember that long ago.

Doralice might have giggled in response if she didn't have Mrs. Whitlock on her mind. "I had a visitor today."

"Oh?" her husband asked, wondering which of the church ladies came by this time.

"I was out in the backyard, trying to remember what the outdoors was like, and Mrs. Whitlock stopped by."

Suddenly she had his full and complete attention. "Mrs. Josephine Whitlock?"

"One and the same."

"So we met the lady in black on the same day?"

"She came by to tell me what a gentleman you were."

Bart laughed; Doralice looked so serious. "I met her at the bakery. Evan introduced us. She seems very formal, very eastern, don't you think?"

"I'd call her . . . curious. And odd. Maria warned me to stay away from her."

"Why, whatever for?"

"I don't know, but Maria seemed disturbed by her. So did Lucy."

"Since when do you care what the cat thinks?" He wouldn't admit to it, but he did find it peculiar that Lucy seemed upset. Lucy loved everybody.

Beauregard finally grew bored with his toes and prevented an answer by wailing for dinner. Or a snack. Or anything else that was available. While Doralice took care of their son in a way Bart couldn't, he cleared the table and began washing the dishes. His impression of Josephine Whitlock had been favorable – apparently his wife's wasn't. _'I wonder why,'_ he thought to ask her, but by the time she'd returned to the kitchen with the baby he was on to a different subject. Josephine Whitlock was not mentioned again until a week later.

Bart had taken Billy Sunday to lunch at Sawyers after they'd had a meeting with a new barware supplier. They were just about to sit down when Mrs. Whitlock walked in, and Bart thought it would be a fine idea if she joined them. "Mrs. Whitlock, we were just being seated. Won't you join my assistant manager and me for lunch? It's Mrs. Sunday's husband, Billy. We'd be honored if you would."

She smiled graciously and accepted the invitation, along with introductions to Billy, whom she hadn't met. "You have such a lovely wife, Mr. Sunday, so polite and attentive. I stop in to get breakfast from her every morning. Her croissants are positively to die for."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Whitlock. You've become quite a favorite with Evan."

Jeanie Bowen brought the coffee pot and tea and rattled off the daily lunch specials. After they ordered, Josephine remarked, "My goodness, how can she speak that fast? Why such a hurry?"

"Most everybody that comes in here for lunch is in a hurry, Mrs. Whitlock. They've all got jobs or businesses to go back to."

She laid a hand on Bart's arm and he felt a jolt of electricity go through him. "Please call me Josephine."

"Only if you'll call me Bart."

"Bart. Isn't that short for something else?"

Bart grimaced. "Bartley. Which my pap - father, to this day, insists on calling me."

"Bartley is a lovely name." She turned to Billy. "I assume your name is William."

"Yes'm. But I've always been Billy. Or 'Hey-you.'"

Josephine's turn to make a face. "Oh, that's awful. William is so stately and dignified, I hardly believe that 'hey-you' would dare take its place."

"So now that you've been here several weeks, Josephine, what do you think of our little town? It's certainly grown up in the last two years. There are so many more businesses and people than there were before."

"I can't imagine it any smaller. How long have you lived here, Bart?"

"Actually, I was born and raised here. I left town at eighteen and just came back about six or seven years ago."

"And you, Billy?"

"Oh, I'm a newcomer, ma'am. I've only been here for a year."

"Have you always run a saloon, Bart?"

A soft chuckle escaped from him. "No, Josephine, for most of my life I was a professional poker player."

"A what?"

"A gambler."

A small gasp could be heard. "Oh surely, no. You're much too much of a gentleman to have been a gambler."

Bart burst out laughing and couldn't stop. Josephine looked positively dismayed, as it took several minutes for him to regain control. "I'm sorry, but that's exactly what I was. Oh, not what you're thinkin' of, I'm sure. I played the game honestly, the way it's meant to be played. No tricks, no cheats, just the pure scientific game."

"And you earned your living doing that?" There was still a note of disbelief in her question.

"Yes, ma'am. For many, many years. As a matter of fact, my brother Bret still does."

"You must have been very good at it."

Billy jumped back into the conversation. "Yes, ma'am, he sure was. One of the very best. Matter of fact, he's still better than most of what's out there playin' cards now."

"And you have a brother that still makes his living that way?"

"For the most part. His wife is a Captain with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. He travels with her most of the time."

"And do they live here, also?"

He shook his head. "No, not at the moment."

Lunch was over, and Bart insisted on paying. Josephine tried to refuse graciously, but he pointed out that she had joined them at his invitation and he was therefore responsible. Josephine consulted Billy, who insisted that "Mr. Maverick is a most stubborn man, and if he insists he's paying for it, then he's paying for it."

"Well, thank you very much for a delightful repast. You must allow me to reciprocate sometime in the future, perhaps you and your lovely wife could join me for supper one evening."

"I'm sure Doralice would love that. She doesn't get out of the house much these days with the girls and Beauregard."

"Yes, she shared that with me. Are you going back to your 'saloon,' gentlemen?"

Billy shook his head. "No ma'am, I don't start work until later. I'm headed home right now. But I'm sure Bart is going back to Maude's."

"I am, yes. Are you going that way? Might I escort you somewhere?"

"I'm going to the bank. I have an appointment with Mr. Malcolm." James T. Malcolm was the latest Bank Manager at the Little Bend Bank and Trust Company.

"Then, by all means, let me take you there. It's almost across the street from Maude's." Not quite true. It was half a block or more down the boardwalk from the saloon.

"Thank you, Bart. Your company would be most welcome."

And they strolled leisurely down the boardwalk to the bank, chatting away in a friendly manner, while being observed by almost half of the curious population of Little Bend.


	5. Recipe for Disaster

Chapter 4 – Recipe for Disaster

"Mr. Maverick."

He hadn't been paying any attention; his mind was daydreaming, thinking about a certain widow lady with black hair and blue eyes. Just thinking about her. So when Sheriff Dave Parker showed up at his office door, unannounced and unexpected, he was startled out of his reverie.

The only time Parker had ever seen Bart Maverick taken unaware like that was right before Doralice and he had gotten married, when all he could think about was making the beautiful blonde his bride. And as much in love as the two of them still were, he could only assume . . . "Daydreaming about your beautiful wife?"

"Uh . . . yes, as a matter-of-fact, I was," he lied, quickly trying to cover up the embarrassment he felt at thinking about another woman. He'd done nothing wrong or inappropriate, yet he still felt guilty because the beauty on his mind was not his wife. He cleared his throat and shook his head slightly, as if to expel the wrong woman from his brain, then turned and smiled at his old friend. "What can I do for you, Dave? Is this an official visit?"

"Sort of. I came over to let you know there's gonna be a meetin' of the town council tomorrow night, and they want all members and potential members there. I'm out notifyin' everyone involved. Seven o'clock at the temporary town council offices. If you wanna join this silly thing, you gotta be there."

"It's not a silly thing, Dave. It's there for a reason."

"Yeah, just to drive me crazy. The only thing they'll need me for is to run around and notify people about meetin's. Say, how is Doralice, anyway? I haven't seen much of her since the baby was born."

Bart sighed. "She's got her hands full, with the girls ready to turn four and Beauregard behavin' like he's runnin' the house. The kid wants ALL of your attention ALL of the time."

"Well, you be sure and tell her we miss her at church, and we'd like to see her before the kids old enough to go to school." Parker took two steps away from the door and turned around hastily. "Say, Bart . . . I had a couple people tell me they saw you having lunch with Mrs. Whitaker. They didn't think it was appropriate for a married man to be keeping company with a woman that wasn't his wife. Did you have lunch with her?"

"I did, Dave, but Billy Sunday was there with us. Somebody objected to our having a friend join us for the noonday meal? And when we left Sawyers I walked her down to the bank, where she had a meetin' with the new bank president. Did ya hear about that, too? Somebody got objections to escortin' a lady that's all alone down the street? If they do, you tell 'em all I'm doin' is providing a little protection for a lonely widow. That's all. I'm a married . . . a happily married man. Got it?"

"Sure, Bart, sure, I got it. Just thought you might want to know, is all. You don't need to tell me twice." Parker backed out of the office doorway and had disappeared within seconds. Bart sat at his desk, fighting the urge to be perturbed over Dave's remarks about Josephine. He was very much in love with his wife . . . and very happily married . . . but the woman that invaded his consciousness this afternoon was not his beautiful bride . . . but the newest resident of Little Bend, Josephine Whitlock. And he wondered why . . .

XXXXXXXX

By the time Bart got home he'd forgotten all about the sheriff's visit and the words they'd had. Doralice was in the kitchen cooking supper, and he went straight to her and kissed her passionately. "My, what was that for?" she asked, somewhat breathless.

"That was because I love you. Just because I love you, that's all."

She smiled at him. _'What had he done now?'_ she wondered.

Before she could say anything else there was a loud shriek, and two little ladies dressed in pink made a beeline for him. "Daddy, daddy, daddy," the cacophony went, until it was loud enough to be heard across state lines. He bent down to wrap them both in a gigantic embrace and his tie was immediately untied by the oldest, Maudie. Belle stood on tip-toe and planted a kiss in his ear. "Love you much too," Belle whispered, while Maudie ran through the house waving his tie like a spoil of war.

"Maude Belinda Maverick, you bring that tie back here this instant," he called after her, for all the good it would do. "What is wrong with that child?" he asked no one in particular.

"She's her father's daughter," her mother answered.

Just about that time, Beauregard began to cry. "Is he hungry?" Bart asked.

"He's always hungry. But no, he's been fed. He just wants some attention."

The cradle was in the kitchen so that Doralice could keep an eye on him, and Bart picked up his first-born son and began to talk to him, walking around the room to settle his boy down. In just a few minutes Beau was once again sleeping, the girls were ready for dinner, and Bart's tie was nowhere to be found.

"What do you do with them, Maudie?" Bart wouldn't put it past her to bury them. She just smiled and said not one word.

"Dave came by today. Said they miss you in church. Told me there's a town council meetin' tomorrow night at seven o'clock and to be there if I'm interested."

"You gonna go?" Doralice never thought Bart would be fascinated by any kind of government, especially city government; from what she'd heard all they did was bicker with each other. But he had gotten interested, and she had no intention of trying to dissuade him from getting involved.

"Yep. Say, why don't you get Maria Elena to stay over a little later and meet me for dinner at five-thirty? That way we can spend some time together, and you don't have to cook. I can walk you home and still get to the meetin' on time."

She smiled; that sounded nice. Their time away from the children had been limited since Beauregard's birth; it would be enjoyable to have a relatively peaceful meal together. "At Sawyers?"

"No. Let's make it really special and go to the hotel." That would be special; they hadn't dined at the hotel in ages. "Is that alright with you?"

She panicked for a minute; she hadn't tried on any of her good dresses since the baby was born. Oh, well, she was sure something would fit her. "Sure. Shall I meet you there?"

"I'll come and get you."

He'd actually surprised himself when he got interested in the ins and outs of local political life. It began in earnest when the council started discussing what would later be called 'zoning' – that is, letting businesses build in one area of the town and houses in another. According to what the council wanted to do, his own house wouldn't be allowed to be built where it stood right now. Bart couldn't see any need for a restriction like that in a town the size of Little Bend and got involved in the movement to prevent it from becoming law. The more he learned about things the council wanted to do or restrict the more he wanted to have a say in those matters. And there was only one way to do that – get elected to the council.

As for the desire to take Doralice to dinner at the hotel – there really hadn't been much time for them to be together since Beauregard was born, and in spite of anything else, he really and truly loved Doralice. He knew he would never find another woman that was so perfectly suited to him, a match made in heaven, as it were. He wanted her to know how much he loved her, and thought that wining and dining her was a lovely way to show her.

And in the very back of his mind, something told him they might run into Josephine Whitlock. That thought brought a smile to his face.


	6. Boo-Boo

Chapter 5 – Boo-Boo

Dinner at the Little Bend Hotel the next night went off without a hitch; Doralice found a dress to wear, and the food was unusually good. It was indeed a pleasure to have a lovely meal out with just the two of them and a glass or two of wine . . . even though Bart was disappointed there was no Josephine Whitlock sighting. He walked his wife home and then went on to the town council meeting, where he discovered Mrs. Whitlock had requested an allowance be made for her to attend. Since she intended to remain as a town resident and there was no husband to represent them at the meetings, permission was granted for her presence there.

She seated herself discreetly near the very back of the temporary town hall, where she stayed until Bart arrived. When he discovered she was 'hiding out' in the back he insisted she sit closer to the front of the gathering, and that she sit with him. He was joined shortly by Doctor Simon Petry, a good friend, and someone who had also become acquainted with the new widow. Flanked on either side by two of the town's most visible citizens, no one dared voice an objection to her attendance.

Toward the end of the meeting, new business was discussed, and a building permit was granted for the empty lot two doors down from Maude's. A small clothing store was to be built there, with a residence on the second floor. The permit was granted to Mrs. Josephine Whitlock. Bart seemed delighted, and when the meeting was over congratulated her on her choice of locations. "I know just the man to do the work for you, too," Bart declared as they waited for the night's attendees to clear the room.

"Mr. Wilcox," Josephine announced, followed by a charming if low-key laugh. "Doctor Petry already recommended him, based on the work he did on your house. I agree whole-heartedly. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with him tomorrow. I wanted to ask if you would be able to meet with us around 2 o'clock – I would feel so much better if someone I knew and trusted was there to advise me. I have no idea if what he'll charge to do the work is reasonable or not. Could you possibly be there?"

"Of course, Josephine. Where are the two of you meeting?"

"At the property itself. A whole two doors down from Maude's. That's why I was hoping your answer would be yes – I really do need your advice. I'm afraid I have no experience in these matters."

"I'd be happy to help. But I will tell you in advance – Pauly Wilcox is a good friend, and I'd trust him to do anything he said he could do."

The hall was practically empty, and he offered his arm to escort her out. She accepted graciously, ignoring the several men that cast withering looks their way. Bart didn't see anything but Josephine. They'd reached the hotel when inspiration struck him. "Would you like to have a cup of tea before going to your room? With me in the dining room, I mean."

"Why, yes, Bart, that would be ever so pleasant."

They spent almost another hour chatting over their beverages; Josephine found it the perfect time to explain what she wanted her building to accommodate. When at last he returned home it was quite late, and Doralice had already gone to bed. She was not asleep, however.

"What did the council have to talk about so late?" As soon as he got in bed she snuggled up to him, and for now she lay wrapped up in his arms.

"Oh, nothin' so important. We stopped at the dining room of the hotel and had coffee, and talked some more about their agenda."

"Anything interesting?"

"Yeah, that vacant lot two doors down from Maude's was sold, and they issued a building permit for some kind of a clothing store downstairs and a residence upstairs."

"Did they say who'd applied for the permit?"

"Yeah, it was Mrs. Whitlock."

"Really? Mrs. Whitlock? So it sounds like she's stayin' here permanently."

"Sounds that way."

"Anything else?"

"Simon told me he'd already recommended a builder to her."

"So Simon knows her too, huh? Did he recommend Pauly?"

"Of course he did. So you don't get to add on any more rooms here for a while. Pauly's gonna be busy."

"I think we've expanded just about as much as we could, anyway."

He kissed the back of her neck and held her close, falling asleep without too much effort. Doralice lay there in his arms and wondered what it was he hadn't told her; maybe she'd take Beauregard to Simon's tomorrow just to see what else she could discover about the mysterious Mrs. Whitlock.

XXXXXXXX

"I didn't expect to see you here this morning, Doralice. Is Beauregard alright?"

The woman in question nodded and smiled. "I think so, Simon. I just wanted you to have a look at him and make sure."

It didn't take long to make that determination. "Looks fine, sounds fine. He really is a big boy. Going to be built like his uncle, it appears. Nothing for you to worry about."

"That's good to know. You boys had a late night last night, didn't you?"

"Late night? No, not really. I went straight home after the council meeting. Didn't Bart?"

She shook her head. "No, he was quite late. Said he stopped for coffee at the hotel and discussed the council's agenda. I just assumed he stopped with you."

"Ah, there's where you went wrong. If he stopped at the hotel, it was probably with Josephine Whitlock. I know he was escorting her back there. She probably wanted to talk to him about this building that she's having built. I recommended Pauly Wilcox to her, but Bart's got a better handle on what Pauly can and can't do. She sat with us at the meeting last night – "

"They let her attend the council meeting?"

"Yes, since there's no Mr. Whitlock and she's the one that needed the permit approved. Now all she has to do is get the building built and open her business."

"Pauly will get the building built for her. Then she's got to make a go of it."

"I wonder how she's going to feel being two doors down from Maude's? It can get awfully loud at night."

"I guess that's her problem to deal with, isn't it?"

Simon observed Doralice carefully before making the next remark. "You don't like her very much, do you? Althea gets the same kind of look on her face when I say anything about Josephine." Althea was Simon's wife.

"To be perfectly honest with you . . . no, I don't. I don't trust her, Simon. There's somethin' she's not tellin' us. And whatever it is, she seems to have entrapped my husband in the scheme."

"I don't know, Doralice, I think you may not be giving Bart enough credit. Anybody would be hard pressed to put something over on him."

She picked up Beauregard, who got a big smile on his face. "Thank you for lookin' over my boy, and for the observation, Simon. I'll give it some thought."

Doralice carried her son outside before saying anything else on the subject. "Well, boo-boo, let's go see what daddy's up to today." And Doralice headed for Maude's. And trouble.


	7. The Building

Chapter 6 – The Building

"Mrs. Dora! How are you?" That greeting was from Willie; it had been almost six months since Doralice had been inside Maude's. "And this must be the newest Mr. Maverick."

"It is, Willie. How are you?" Doralice asked as she came around the back of the bar and kissed Willie on the cheek. "Is Bart here?"

"No, ma'am, he stepped out for a few minutes. You want to wait in his office?"

"Did he leave with anyone, Willie?" She suspected he had, but she waited for Willie's answer.

"No, ma'am, he was alone when he left."

' _Well,'_ she thought, _'maybe it's not what I thought it was.'_ "Is Maude here today?"

"Yes, ma'am. Back in her office."

"Thanks, Willie." She had intended to leave Beauregard with her mother while she walked down to the vacant lot, but changed her mind. She took her son and left the saloon, going south on the boardwalk, past just two buildings. When she got there it took but a moment to discover she'd been right all along – Bart was there, along with Pauly Wilcox and Josephine Whitlock. The three of them appeared to be in deep discussion about something. Bart heard her when Beauregard gurgled and looked up sharply.

"Doralice, honey, what are you doin' here?"

"I guess I might ask you the same question."

"We was tryin' to figure how to build this dang building, Miss Dora," Pauly answered her. "Maybe you can help us out. Take a look at this drawin', would ya?" He started to hand her the drawings before realizing she had an armful of baby. "Say, is this the little feller I keep hearin' so much about? He's a healthy lad, ain't he?" Bart reached over and took the baby from Doralice. Pauly then handed her the building diagram and pointed out the problem to her. "See, right here. If we do this, then there ain't no way to get around the back side."

Josephine spoke up for the first time. "Mr. Wilcox, I hardly think Mrs. Maverick will know what – "

"Oh yeah, she will," Pauly interrupted. "Miss Dora's real bright like that."

"Look here, Pauly," Doralice pointed something out to the handyman. "If you put this here instead of there, and swing this around the other way, your problem's solved."

"By dang, it is." He turned to Josephine. "Told ya Miss Dora was bright."

"Yes, she is," Bart spoke up. "Brightest woman I know. That's one of the things I love about her."

"Well, I'm amazed. And eternally grateful. You solved a real problem, Doralice. I would love to see what other ideas you might have. I already told Bart I wanted to have the two of you join me for dinner. How about tonight at six o'clock? At Sawyer's? And Mr. Wilcox, could you be there, too?"

"We can do that, can't we, honey?" Bart asked expectantly.

"Sorry, Mrs. Whitlock, I'm workin' a job I can't get away from right now. But pickin' Miss Dora's brain is a good idea."

Having dinner with Josephine Whitlock was not high on the list of things Doralice wanted to do, but she saw the look on her husband's face and agreed. "We'd be happy to join you for dinner," Doralice did her best to sound pleased with the invitation. "Should we meet you there?"

"Nonsense," Bart insisted. "I'll walk down to the hotel and meet Josephine, then I'll stop at home and get you. That should work out fine." Beauregard picked just then to wake up and get fussy; Doralice took him back from his father and soon had him settled back down.

"Then perhaps we should wait for you to give me a price until we're satisfied there are no more changes," Josephine suggested.

"A bright idea, Mrs. Whitlock. I can meet you on Friday to see what we're gonna alter, then we can get started next week. If that works for you."

"Here at 2 o'clock on Friday. That would be most acceptable, Mr. Wilcox. I shall see you then. Bart, thanks very much for your help. I shall see you and Doralice tonight at six."

Before you could blink, Josephine Whitlock was gone, presumably back to her hotel. Pauly tipped his hat to Doralice and headed to the job he was currently working at, leaving the Maverick's standing in the empty lot. "That was interesting," Doralice remarked.

"She's an interesting woman." It finally dawned on him that Doralice had come to Maude's for some reason. "What are you doing down here, anyway?"

"Nothing, really. We went to see Simon and then just stopped down to say hello to daddy. I'll go back to the saloon with you; I can ask Maude if she'll stay with the babies tonight."

Bart caught on to the 'Simon' visit right away. "Simon? Is there something wrong with Beau?"

"No, no, I thought he might be coming down with something, but it looks like I was wrong." They were at the saloon already, and Doralice went straight back to her mother's office. Maude didn't come in much anymore, but she kept a small office just in case.

She was sitting in there now, looking over something until she heard the baby. "Is that my grandson? It is, what are you two doin' here?" Maude held out her arms until a certain young man had been deposited into them.

"I've got a favor to ask you, Momma. Can you come over and stay with the babies tonight for a couple hours? Bart's accepted a dinner invitation and I have to go with him. About half-past five?"

"Of course I can. Grandma can always come stay with her favorite grandbabies, can't she?" Beauregard lived up to the reputation of his namesake whenever there was a lady around and gave Maude the biggest smile, while Maude reciprocated by smothering him in kisses.

"Thank you."

"You don't sound very happy."

Doralice gave her mother a wan smile. "I'm not. I really don't want to go to dinner with this person."

"Who is it?"

"Josephine Whitlock."

"I haven't met the lady yet. If you don't wanna go to dinner, why are you goin'?"

"That's a good question, Momma. I'll let you know when I figure it out."


	8. I Won't Back Down

Chapter 7 – I Won't Back Down

"You look fantastic, Doralice." Maude didn't equivocate. Doralice was gorgeous, and her mother wanted her to know it.

"I feel frumpy," was the only remark her daughter made.

"I know, let me put your hair up."

"Hmmm, maybe that would help." In just a few minutes Maude had the curls piled high on Doralice's head, with ribbon tendrils that matched her aqua dress woven through her hair. "Nope. Doesn't help."

Bart walked into the bedroom just then and sucked his breath in. "God, you're beautiful." That fact had never been open for debate; Doralice was the only one not feeling that way.

"I keep tellin' her that, but she's not listenin'."

Her husband shook his head. "Listen to your mother. She's right." He bent over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I have to go. We'll be right back."

Once the front door closed, she turned and looked at her mother. "Do you think he believes that?"

Maude nodded. What was wrong with her daughter? "He believes it completely. Don't you ever doubt him."

"Then why does he have that look in his eyes when he looks at Josephine Whitlock?"

"You're imagining things."

Doralice practically snorted. "No, mother, I'm not. He looks at her like she was the last beautiful woman left alive. You just watch him when they come back and see if I'm tellin' you the truth."

Maude couldn't believe that Bart Maverick saw any another woman the way he saw Doralice. He'd always looked at her that way, from the minute they returned from Mexico until just now. It was easy to see how he felt about her; it was all over his face. Maude didn't believe for one minute that her son-in-law saw any other woman the same way . . . no matter what she looked like.

Doralice picked up her shawl and went to the front room to wait. It didn't matter how many times her mother told her she was beautiful . . . she still felt frumpy. The feeling wasn't alleviated when she saw Josephine Whitlock. Still dressed in black silk, but with a slightly more risqué neckline, she was the picture of elegance and grace. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail and held with a black ribbon, she looked like a twenty-year-old instead of the thirtyish woman she was. Even Maude had to suppress a gasp.

Introductions were made and the three going to Sawyer's for dinner left. "I'll be damned," Maude muttered under her breath once the door was shut. There was a look on Bart's face . . . not the same as he looked at Doralice, but definitely something she hadn't seen there before.

XXXXXXXX

Sawyer's had a table in the corner, away from the rest of the noise in the place, and that's where they were seated. Sawyer herself was there tonight, and she came over to the table to talk to everyone. "How's that rascal Bret enjoying married life?"

"He must like it," Bart told her. "We haven't heard from him since they left town after the wedding."

"When you do, tell him I wish him and Ginny nothing but the best."

"I will, Sawyer, thank you."

Drinks and dinner were ordered, and talk turned to the Whitlock building. "I wondered if you happened to see anything else on the drawings you think should be changed."

Doralice decided to try and be pleasant if nothing else. "Yes, I did. Did you bring them with you?"

"I did. Wait just a moment. Here's the big one."

Doralice took the paper Josephine handed to her and looked it over once again. "Here, where your second story has nothing blocking it on the side that faces Maude's – Pauly needs to get rid of these windows."

"May I ask why? It seems to me that you'd get a beautiful breeze through those windows."

Doralice almost smirked. "You would. And you'd get every bit of noise that Maude's generated, and on Saturday night that can be quite a lot."

"Oh, my. I never thought about that. Anything else?"

Doralice shook her head. "No, I looked over everything pretty thoroughly. Looks like that's about the only thing Pauly missed."

Josephine looked pleased and genuinely grateful. "Thank you for your help. You've saved me many a sleepless night, I'm sure. Now, if I may borrow your husband one more time, for my Friday meeting with Mr. Wilcox, I would be forever in your debt."

The beautiful blonde shrugged her shoulders. "If Bart can find the time to help you, I certainly have no objections."

"I told you she was bright, didn't I?" the former gambler asked.

"That you did, sir. That you did."

The conversation turned to other things, including politics, and most of it was of no interest to Doralice. Once in a while someone would throw a bone her way, but for the majority of the meal, Doralice was ignored. It allowed her the opportunity to listen to Josephine play up to Bart, to make it sound as if he was the only man in the world that could help her do things. And he basked in the glow of a thousand compliments, never once suspecting what was truly going on. The thing driving Doralice crazy was the question she had no answer for . . . why? Why all the ego-stroking, all the attention being paid to this man and his opinions and ideas, what did Josephine Whitlock want from Bart Maverick? Somewhere over the course of the meal, the answer came to her, and she couldn't deny the truth.

She was quiet on the way home, quiet when Bart told her he was walking Mrs. Whitlock to the hotel, quiet when her mother asked her if she had a good time. She kissed the twins goodnight and fed Beauregard, then finally sat down in the front room with Maude. Bart still wasn't home.

"What in heaven's name is goin' on?" Maude asked.

"I'm pretty sure, Momma, that Mrs. Whitlock is out to steal my husband. And from the look of things, I'd say she's doin' a good job of it."

"Tell me what happened tonight."

"I'm worn out, and I'd really rather not get into it right now. I'll come down to Maude's tomorrow and we can talk."

"You sure?"

The front door opened and Bart walked in. "Maude, let me walk you home."

Maude stood up from the settee and smiled. "That's alright, handsome, I'm not some fragile little flower that needs your protection. I've been walkin' home for years, I think I can still find my way." She bent down to kiss her daughter on the cheek. "Goodnight, my darling girl. I'll see you tomorrow." And with that she left, closing the front door softly behind her.

"What was that? Did I do somethin'?"

She looked at him across the room and felt angry and sad at the same time. How could she make him see just what was going on? "Where were you?"

"I told you, I walked Josephine to the hotel. "

"Bart, it takes five minutes to walk to the hotel and five minutes to walk back. You were gone for over thirty minutes. What were you doin'?"

"I was . . . well, I was talkin', that's all. Just talkin'. We sat in the lobby of the hotel and talked. You can ask Herbert Green if you don't believe me, he stood and stared at us the whole time we were there."

"Why, Bart? You spent practically the entire dinner talkin' to her. You never said five words to me. What was so important that it wouldn't wait? You knew Maude was here, that she's older and tired out. But she had to walk home by herself. Because you sat in the lobby of the hotel and talked to Mrs. Whitlock."

"I'm just tryin' to help her out, honey. She doesn't have a husband to take care of some things for her, and she's a woman alone. I don't want her to struggle the way you had to struggle. And some of the people in town don't approve of her just because she's tryin' to make it on her own. You know how that sits with me. As for Maude, I wanted to walk her home. You saw her, she got up and left without me. Nothin' I can do for the woman when she gets that way."

They sat in the front room for a few minutes, Doralice displeased and Bart defensive. Finally, Bart stood up and extended his hand to his wife. She reached out and took it, and he pulled her up off the settee. She held onto his hand. "Do you want me to be like every other hypocrite in this town and ignore her because she's all alone? Or can I continue to talk to her and lend a hand when she needs one?"

Doralice bit her lip. It sounded silly when he put it that way. "Do what you think is best," was all she would say. She let him lead her into the bedroom, where she spent a restless night wondering why she'd backed down.


	9. The Unravelling

Chapter 8 – The Unravelling

Bart was already gone to the saloon by the time Doralice got up the next morning. That didn't break her heart, considering the way they'd left everything last night. The twins had eaten breakfast and Beauregard had been changed when she finally came out of the bedroom. "Mrs. Dora, you feeling alright? You look a little pale."

"Sorry to stick you with everything this mornin', Maria. I didn't sleep much last night."

"Did the baby keep you up?"

Maria, of course, meant Beauregard. Doralice meant Bart. "Yes, he did. Was Bart gone when you got here?"

"Si, Señora. The twins were not happy that their poppy left without telling them goodbye."

"I have to go down to the saloon to see Maude for a while. Will you keep an eye on the girls, please?"

"Si, Señora. My nieces have come to visit Mamacita. We will go to her house, and the girls can play together. They said they would take one of Lucy's kittens, too, if I would pick one out for them."

"Oh, good. Take all the girls to lunch at the restaurant, and I'll buy for everybody."

"Gracias. They will enjoy it, just like real little ladies."

"I'm going to feed Beauregard and get dressed, then I'll go see Momma." It took her close to an hour to feed the baby and get cleaned up, and when she was ready to go she kissed the twins goodbye and set off to discuss matters with her mother.

XXXXXXXX

She was on her third cup of coffee by the time she finished explaining last night. Maude had stopped drinking straight brandy and flavored her coffee with it instead; she had only gotten to cup two. "You've heard the whole thing, Momma. What do you think?"

Maude shook her head gently. "I think you're probably right. She's after your husband. Although I don't understand wanting a man with three little babies."

Doralice stared at her coffee cup, currently empty. "What am I supposed to do, Ma? Shoot her? Shoot him? Why doesn't he see what's right in front of him?"

"Honey, he does see what's in front of him. A widow lady that's bright, attractive and all alone. Somebody that needs his help, and he wants to give it to her. Right now it's nothin' more. Now that doesn't mean she doesn't want to make it more, but he hasn't seen that yet. It's all innocent on his part, and it hasn't crossed his mind that it might not be on hers. You have to be careful because you know he really and truly loves you. But if you push him away . . . you could push him straight into her arms. And if you do that you might never get him back."

"Wonderful," she muttered under her breath. "So I'm just supposed to . . . do what?"

"Wait."

"Just wait?"

"That's right."

"For what? The world to end? For my husband to fall in love with another woman? What do I do, Mother?"

"Wait. That's all you can do. Because I don't think you want to run him off."

"No, oh no. That's the last thing I want. I just want Bart back. I don't know who this is right now."

"Yes, you do. That's one of the reasons you fell in love with him, Doralice. Because underneath that gamblers mask he wore, he was so good-hearted."

"So until he comes to his senses, I just . . ."

"Just love him and try not to let Josephine Whitlock bother you."

XXXXXXXX

Nothing further was said about Josephine Whitlock the rest of the week. There was an uneasy peace in the house, and everyone could feel something wasn't right, but only Bart and Doralice actually knew what was wrong. Doralice noticed Friday morning that Bart dressed with a little more care than usual, but she kissed him goodbye and made no further remark.

At precisely two o'clock Bart left his office and walked the two doors down the boardwalk to Josephine's vacant lot, where he met the owner herself and Pauly. Wilcox was reminded of the windows on the north side of the second floor and moved them to the east and west walls instead. After the plans were finalized he explained the cost, including materials, and Bart pronounced the sum fair and honest. Josephine agreed to the total price, and a start date of Monday was set.

The widow hooked her arm through Bart's and walked back to the saloon doors with him. "I can't tell you how much better I feel, knowing that you believe the price is fair. Mr. Wilcox could have asked me for any sum and I would have paid it. You might have just saved me a fortune."

"You didn't have anything to worry about, Josephine. Pauly wouldn't cheat anybody, especially a lady."

She smiled and made a suggestion. "How about a mid-afternoon break? Coffee and a sweet roll at the bakery? My treat." Evan Sunday had just installed two or three small tables with chairs, and it would give them a place to spend a few quiet minutes.

"Alright. Sounds like a good idea." They walked across the street to the bakery and went inside just as Doralice emerged from the saloon. She watched her husband open the door for the widow and ground her teeth in frustration, then took her mother's advice and turned towards their house without saying a word. When Bart came home from work that night she did the same thing – made no mention of the meeting or his sojourn into the bakery. He could tell there was something bothering her, but she wasn't mad at him or questioning his every move, so he just ignored the tension that was beginning to build in their marriage. He left early every morning so that he had time to stop and get a sweet roll from the bakery, in the hope that Josephine would be there and they could spend a few minutes together before he started his day.

The change in his and Doralice's relationship began to bother him. They weren't as affectionate as they'd been during the first years of their marriage; they didn't cuddle in bed the way they did before. Doralice no longer asked him how his day went or if anything unusual happened, and he made an effort to pay more attention to the children to get the affection he craved. He'd always been a good father, but he tried his best to become their best friend and playmate of choice. When that didn't work, he stopped by one morning at Simon Petry's office, in the hopes that Simon could help him figure out what was happening between him and Doralice.

"Bart, we need more than a few minutes. Why don't you stop by here on your way home this evening and we can talk? How does that sound?"

"It sounds good, Simon. I'll see you tonight." And Bart continued on down the boardwalk whistling, hoping that whatever difficulties he and Doralice had been having would soon be behind him.


	10. Run for Your Life

Chapter 9 – Run for Your Life

"Thanks for the coffee, Bart. How'd you know I needed this?" The question was from Simon Petry; the place was his office. It was a little past six o'clock and Doc Petry was worn out, to say the least. It had been one of those days when everybody in town seemed to have an ailment, even the man that sat in front of him. Only thing was that Bart Maverick's ailment was one of the heart, not the body.

"Now, tell me, what's this all about?"

"I'm not sure how to explain it. It started the day I first saw Josephine Whitlock . . ." Bart tried to clarify everything. His actions toward and with Josephine, Doralice's reactions to his burgeoning friendship with the widow. "I don't know what else I can do, Simon. I've tried my best to help out, the way a real friend would. I haven't done anything improper; I've been a perfect gentleman. When Josephine's needed somethin', I've tried to provide it. I've done my best to be a good husband to Doralice, and a loving father towards the girls. I take Doralice to dinner; I try to help around the house when she needs help. I've done everything I can not to embarrass her. She told me to do what I think is best, and that's what I've been tryin' to do. But no matter what it is, I never seem to think or say the right thing, as far as Doralice is concerned.

"Josephine's all alone. When she has a problem and needs some help, I'm all she's got. I've tried the three of us goin' to dinner or for a buggy ride, even escorted both of them to church. I keep hopin' they'll find somethin' that they both like, that maybe they could be friends, but I don't think it's ever gonna happen. My wife seems to be . . . jealous of Josephine. And I don't know why."

Simon sat back in his chair and studied the man in front of him. Bart Maverick was a good man, a loving husband and attentive father. Maybe he was too good, trying to help the newest Little Bend resident with anything he could. Spending time with her as a friend, trying to ease the burdens of a lonely life. That was just it. Maybe he was spending too much time with her . . . some of the town's gossips had begun to talk. And what they were saying was snide and untrue, and bordering on the downright nasty.

"Bart, did it ever cross your mind that the time you spend with Josephine Whitlock is time you could be spending with Doralice Maverick? Your wife loves you, and needs you every bit as much, if not more, than Josephine. Doralice doesn't have anybody, either. Especially when you're off with the widow instead of being at home with your wife.

"You know this town is full of gossips . . . and some of them have started gossiping about you and the widow. It hurts Doralice to hear those things."

"But they ain't true, Simon! None of em's true! There's nothin' goin' on. And if I back away from Josephine now, it's gonna look like people was right, and I was doin' somethin' I shouldn't have been! Doralice knows there's nothin' goin' on, and she's the only one that matters."

Simon took another swallow of coffee and tried to figure out how to get through to his friend. For some reason Bart just couldn't see the writing on the wall. "Bart, she's not the only one that matters, and you know that. There's Maude, and Beauregard, your brother Bret and Ginny, and you. You think the town council is going to elect somebody the whole place is gossiping about?"

That seemed to get Bart's attention. "You think that would stop me from gettin' elected?"

"Yes, I do. How badly do you want to be a member of the council?"

Is that what it had come down to? His friendship with Josephine or membership on the council? "You sure I'd jeopardize the council membership?"

"From what I've heard – yes, your odds of getting elected drop the longer people see you with Mrs. Whitlock."

"Then I guess I'd better do somethin' about backin' off, hadn't I?"

If only that had been the end of it . . .

XXXXXXXX

Bart should have said something to Doralice. He should have told her he was going to try and step aside from the friendship he and the widow had developed. But he didn't. Instead, he told the widow that there was some unfavorable gossip around town about the two of them and he was going to 'back-off' their relationship for a while. It was the perfect mistake.

Some three days later Pappy had ridden into town to see Maude and found Doralice in her mother's office. Bart had just walked over to the bakery for coffee since the saloon had run out and their supplies wouldn't be in until later this afternoon. Pappy was about to take the two ladies to lunch when Bart and Josephine emerged from the Dandridge Bakery. The saloon manager had just finished telling the widow that it would be best for them not to see each other for a while; that she should call on Pauly Wilcox if she needed something rather than him. Josephine was not pleased. She saw Doralice across the street out of the corner of her eye and made her move.

She leaned over and kissed Bart, just to say 'thank you' for everything he'd done for her. At least that's what she said. Only she missed his cheek and caught him full on the mouth. Bart had his back half-turned to the people across the street, and none of them could see the startled expression on his face. Doralice gasped and ran back into the saloon, Maude chasing after her. Pappy stood on the boardwalk for another few seconds and stared at Josephine. She looked awfully familiar to him, and he tried to remember where he'd seen her before. Needless to say, he wasn't happy with his youngest son. He turned quickly and followed his two lunch companions back into Maude's, he didn't see the look of abject horror on Bart's face as he pulled back from the kiss.

"What are you doing?" he almost shouted at her.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to kiss you on the cheek," Josephine protested immediately.

"Why were you tryin' to kiss me at all? I just told you we had to cut way back on spendin' time with each other, and you do somethin' that foolish. Are you tryin' to get me in hot water?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done for me. I'm sorry if I caused problems."

"I have to go," Bart told her abruptly, and went back to his office in the saloon, where he shut the door and laid his head on his desk. How did he get into these things, and how could he get out of them? What was he supposed to do now? What if someone had seen her kissing him? Simon's words rang in his ears. _'You think the town council is going to elect somebody the whole place is gossiping about?'_ But what if nobody had seen? Could he be that lucky? All he could do was wait, and pray that his luck held. He had no idea what he was about to walk into, or why someone would want to destroy both his marriage and his reputation. Unfortunately for Bart Maverick, he was about to find out.


	11. The Traveling Man

Chapter 10 – The Traveling Man

By the time Bart left Maude's for the night he'd almost forgotten what had occurred on the boardwalk earlier in the day. The afternoon had been busy and there were so many things to handle that it had all but slipped his mind. When he walked in the front door he expected the normal mad dash of the girls yelling "Daddy, daddy, daddy," but there was no yelling and no adoring little girls. There was no trace of anyone, not even Maria Elena. The only thing he could see were two suitcases and his war bag, all appearing to be packed and sitting a few feet inside the door.

"Doralice, honey, what're the suitcases doin' out here?" There was no immediate answer, and all remained still. "Doralice?"

She came out of the bedroom then, her eyes dry but red. She'd cried quite a bit but she finally had it under control now. Otherwise, she was as beautiful as ever . . . maybe even more so. "They're yours. Get out."

"What?"

"Take your clothes and get out."

He couldn't believe the words he was hearing. "I . . .what? Why? What have I done?"

"I always believed you were the kind of man that l could trust. Someone that would never betray me. And if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. But I saw it, Bart. I saw you kiss that Whitlock woman, right out on Main Street, in front of God and anybody else that was looking. My mother and your own father saw it, and I will not allow you to humiliate me like that. Take your belongings and get out."

He was stunned. Doralice had seen Josephine kiss him. Not only Doralice but Maude and Pappy, too. He had to tell her, had to explain what happened. "Honey, I didn't kiss her. She kissed me. I'd just told her that she was gonna have to find somebody else to help her out, and . . . "

"I don't care what kind of an explanation you've got, mister. I know what I saw. And what I saw was my husband kissin' another woman. I've put up with a lot ever since Josephine Whitlock came to this town, but I will not tolerate that. Pick up your bags and go. You're not welcome here anymore."

"Doralice . . . "

"Get out, Bart, and don't come back." And with that she turned around and went back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Bart stood there for a good ten minutes, waiting to see if she'd come back to the living room. Her door remained firmly closed, and not a sound escaped from behind it. Finally, in the depths of despair, he picked up the suitcases and left.

XXXXXXXX

He was utterly and completely lost. There were only two places he could go; one of them was the hotel, which already housed the woman that had gotten him into this mess. The other was his office at Maude's; that's where he headed now.

Fortunately, he was the occupant of the office with a back-door exit, and he went inside that way, so that no one would see him with his bags. He set them down behind the desk and then all but collapsed in his chair. His office door was closed and locked and he intended to leave it that way. Sitting there listening to the noises emanating from the saloon, he tried to determine just what had happened. With nothing better to do, he stood back up and removed his coat, then unbuttoned his vest and loosened his tie. He let out a little chuckle as he wondered, _"where was Maudie when he needed her?"_

His next move was the only one that seemed logical to him. He reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy and a glass. The bottle was almost full.

The next step was most unusual. He filled the glass and drank it down, not stopping until it was empty once again. He poured a second glass and consumed it slower this time, feeling the effects when he was about half finished. There wasn't much left in him that cared, so he proceeded to finish the second glass and pour a third. He pondered the wrong he'd done to the only woman he'd ever loved this way while he drank that glass, too. Before he could pour a fourth, he lay his head down on his desk and wept bitter tears. Why hadn't he listened to Doralice or Simon? Why had he insisted that Josephine was just lonely, and he was only a friend? And why, oh why, had Josephine tried to kiss him? Was it just an accident, as she maintained, or was there something else going on here, something that he wasn't aware of?

He poured a fourth glass of brandy, drinking most of it before he lay his head back down on the desk. Within minutes he was asleep, and he stayed that way until almost five the next morning. When he finally woke he was hung over and miserable. He wanted to see his babies and hold his wife in his arms, and he knew that right now he couldn't. Doralice needed time; time to get over the anger she felt at him, time to be willing to listen to him when he explained what had really happened yesterday on Main Street.

Bart staggered to his feet and made his way to the pitcher of water he kept in the office for emergencies. He washed his face and combed his hair, then opened one of the suitcases and found clean clothes. He changed and finally unlocked his office door, headed straight for the bar to make a fresh pot of coffee. Everything was so peaceful and quiet at this time of the morning; he tried to forget why he was at Maude's this early. The coffee was almost done when he heard someone knocking at the front door. Bart was inclined to ignore the knocking, but it didn't stop and he finally heard a familiar voice. "Bart, its Parker. Open up."

Maverick made his way slowly to the door and opened it, locking it again when the sheriff was safely inside. "I saw the light go on in here and I figured it was you. Didn't think you'd go to the hotel."

"How did you know . . . is it all over town?"

Parker nodded. "Afraid so. Most everybody knows what happened, or some version of it."

"Great. Do they know I didn't kiss the woman?"

"There's all kinds of stories out there. What really happened, Bart?"

The gambler poured two cups of coffee, and he and the sheriff headed for a table. "I just happened to run into her at the bakery. I told her that I needed to back away from the friendship for the sake of my marriage, and she said she understood. I held the door for her, and the next thing I know Josephine's kissed me and I'm trying to find out what the hell she'd do that for. Ain't no reason for it, Dave. I didn't do nothin' to encourage it. I pulled away from her as quick as I could but the damage had already been done."

Dave shook his head. "You're in a tough spot, Buddy. Gossip I hear has got you tried and convicted already. Most everybody knows Doralice threw your sorry behind out. What are you gonna do now?"

"Somethin' about this ain't sittin' right with me, Dave. It's too . . . contrived. I'm gonna see what I can find out about Josephine Whitlock. You got time to do me a favor?"

"Looks that way. Whadda you need?"

"Two things. Go through your 'Wanted' posters and see if you can turn up anything, and find out from the Wells Fargo office where Mrs. Whitlock got on the stage. I'd appreciate your help."

The sheriff set down his empty coffee cup. "Alright, partner, you got it. I'll see what I can do for you. You gonna try to talk to your wife today?"

"Nope. I think she needs some time to cool off before I try. But I am gonna go out to Pappy's and talk to him."

"I don't envy you that trip. I'll let you know what I find out."

"Thanks, Dave. I'll come by the jail later. And don't tell anybody what you're doin', alright?"

Parker nodded and attempted a smile. "I'll keep it as quiet as I can."

"Thanks." The sound of keys rattling was heard at the front door, and a few minutes later Willie walked in.

"Thought you might be here, boss," Willie remarked but said nothing else. Bart walked Dave up to the front door and let him out, then headed back towards his office. "You here to stay?" came Willie's question.

"Nope. I'm ridin' out to talk to Pappy. Wish me luck."

"You're gonna need more than luck, Bart. You're gonna need a miracle."


	12. What a Fool Believes

Chapter 11 – What a Fool Believes

Bart rode out to Uncle Ben's house slowly. He was well aware of the fact that he had to talk to Pappy and convince his father of the truth, but he was in no hurry to get there and face what he expected to be, at the very least, a severe tongue lashing.

When the house came into view, he shuddered. You think by the time you're old enough to father children, the idea of having to face one of your parents wouldn't be quite so daunting. This visit was going to be painful, and Bart was well aware of that fact. Pappy had seen the same 'kiss' that Doralice had seen, and she believed it enough to send him packing rather than let him explain. He could only imagine what had gone through his father's head.

He tied his horse up out front and pushed the door open slowly. There was no one in the front room or down the long hallway, and he had to go all the way to the back of the house before he found Lily Mae Connors, longtime Maverick housekeeper, cook, and surrogate mother. She looked right at him but didn't make a sound . . . there was nothing in her eyes but pain and disappointment. She shook her head sadly and sat down at the kitchen table.

"I didn't do it, Lily Mae. I did not kiss that woman. I'd just finished explaining to her that we couldn't spend time together when she kissed me. I swear to you, I love my wife, and all I want is to go home and be a good husband and father. I'd never do that to the mother of my children, humiliate her like that. I have to get her to take me back; I just have to. I never meant for this to be anything other than a helping hand to a widow. I love Doralice, more than anything in this world."

Lily Mae had practically raised the Maverick boys; they were as close to her own children as they could be. Bart had never lied to her in his entire life, and when she looked into those brown eyes now and saw the tears and the misery standing in them, she knew he was telling her the truth. But convincing her was one thing; convincing Beauregard Maverick was something else.

"Your father's heart is broken. The last thing he wanted was for you to go through the same upheaval he went through. And he thinks you were unfaithful to Doralice. I don't know what you can do to change his mind."

"But I wasn't, Lily Mae. I'll admit to being stupid, but not unfaithful."

"Then how do you explain the kiss I saw?" Bart had his back to the stairs and had no idea Pappy had come down them.

"It was a mistake, according to Josephine. She wanted to kiss me on the cheek and caught me wrong. I pulled away from her right away."

"Why was she kissing you at all?"

"She wanted to thank me for the help I'd given her. When she came to town she was all by herself and she needed assistance with a few things."

"What kind of things?"

"Buying a piece of property, helping her request a building permit from the council, things like that. I had lunch with her once; Billy Sunday was with us."

"What else?"

"That's all. Doralice wasn't happy with our friendship, and I'd just told Josephine we couldn't see each other anymore, Pa. I didn't want people gossiping about us."

"She must not have believed you, Bartley, because she sure didn't make any effort to do what you asked. Didn't you learn a thing from the story about me . . . and your mother?"

Lily had gone out the back door so the men could have some privacy. "It's not the same Pappy, I never slept with her like you did Grace. The most intimate thing I ever did was walk her home a few times."

"I told you what happened so you wouldn't ever go through anything stupid like I did. I lost over two years of our life together; two years I could never get back. Precious time that I couldn't replace. You've got three little babies, Bartley . . . how could you be such a jackass? Right out on a public street where everybody could see you. Doralice threw you out, didn't she? Didn't she?" Pappy was yelling now, red in the face and as furious as his son had ever seen him. Bart nodded his head slowly. "Good. She should have. If she's smart she won't let you come back, either."

"But, Pappy – "

"Shut up, Bartley. I don't want to hear your lies." He turned on his heel and was gone, down the hallway and out the front door. Bart felt like he'd been slapped, but he had to fix this. He had to convince Pappy he was telling the truth.

Against his better judgment, he followed Beauregard out the front door. Pappy was sitting on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs, calmly smoking a cigar. "Can I sit down?"

Pappy pointed his cigar at the empty chair. "Sit." He took a long draw on the cigar before speaking again. "Better not be no lies comin' out of your mouth, boy."

Bart's voice was so quiet he could barely be heard. "I didn't cheat on Doralice, Pa. I escorted the lady back and forth to her hotel several times; I sat in on two meetings she had with a builder friend of ours, and I bought her tea once or twice. That's the God's honest truth."

Beauregard was softening towards his youngest. "How am I supposed to believe you?"

"I did not . . . betray my vows. I swear to you on Momma's grave."

That stopped Beauregard in his tracks. The one thing in this world that Bart wouldn't do was lie about something and swear to the truth of it on his mother's grave. "How are you gonna . . . convince your wife?"

Bart shook his head. "I don't know, Pa. But I have to . . . I can't be away from her and the babies . . . I can't be." Beauregard watched his son as a single tear made its presence clear. Bart wiped it away with the back of his hand. They sat on the porch in the continuing gloom that surrounded them, both wondering how the son could make so many of the same mistakes his father had. Finally, Bart voiced a suspicion shared equally by father and son.

"Somethin' about this don't feel right, Pappy . . . almost like I had a big target on my back. You didn't recognize her, did ya?"

"No, I didn't. But she sure looked familiar. Reminded me of somebody, but I can't place exactly who."

"I got Dave Parker doin' me a favor. Gonna find out where she came from. And if she's wanted for anything. Maybe one of those two things'll turn up somethin'."

Beauregard nodded solemnly. "What if they don't?"

"Right now I don't know, Pa. I guess I'll just have to dig further."

"Where are you sleepin', boy? You didn't check into the hotel, did ya? That's the worst place you can go. You don't wanna be anywhere's near Mrs. Whitlock. You can come out and bunk with us if you want. Just until this is all straightened out, you hear."

"Thanks, Pappy, but no. I'm sleepin' in my office at Maude's. That way I'm close to the house, just in case. I gotta see the girls; let 'em know that Daddy loves 'em. Maybe blue-eyes will talk to me." Bart stood and looked down at his father, feeling more hopeful than he had when he got there. "I'm sorry I disappointed you. I disappointed me, too. I couldn't see what I was doin'. I thought I was bein' a good citizen. I kept tellin' Doralice I loved her, but I guess I wasn't showin' it because I didn't listen to what she was tellin' me." Pause. "I guess you were right, I was a jackass."

"Wouldn't be the first time you made a fool out of yourself."

"No, but I sure hope it's the last."


	13. Go Your Own Way

Chapter 12 – Go Your Own Way

Once back in Little Bend, Bart went straight to the sheriff's office. He was hoping that Parker would have some answers for him about Josephine Whitlock. The news was not good.

"I went through all of the 'Wanted' posters, Bart, and couldn't find anything on our widow lady. Wells Fargo is still checkin' on the origination point of Mrs. Whitlock's ticket. They've traced her back to Baton Rouge but won't know for a day or two if that's where she started. I'll let you know as soon as they get back to me."

"Thanks, Dave. I appreciate your help."

"How'd it go with Beauregard?"

"Better than I expected. He knows I was an unwilling party to the kiss, and that I wasn't cheatin' on Doralice. Whether that does me any good or not, I'll just have to wait and see."

"You gonna try to see your wife?"

"Not today. I think she needs some time to settle down and think about what happened. I'm hopin' I can make arrangements to see the twins in the next day or so . . . maybe we can talk then."

"You goin' to Maude's now?"

Bart sighed. "No place else for me to go, Dave."

And Maude's is exactly where he headed.

XXXXXXXX

Bart spent the rest of the day catching up on saloon business. Everything was pretty quiet, and around six o'clock there was a knock on his door. "Yes," Bart called out, and the next person he saw was Willie. "Boss, Miss Maude's here, and she wants to see you in her office."

"I'll be right there, Willie," he responded, and steeled himself for another round of verbal beating. He put his coat back on, straightened his tie and went to Maude's office. Her door was open.

"Come in, Bart," he heard, and presented himself in front of the boss lady's desk. "Have a seat."

He waited for the yelling to start but to his surprise, it didn't. "Where were you today?"

"I went out to see Pappy."

"Good. Beauregard was mighty upset when we saw you yesterday. He wasn't the only one."

"I'll tell you what I told Pappy. I didn't kiss Josephine – she kissed me. It wasn't solicited and it wasn't welcome. I didn't do anything I shouldn't have with Mrs. Whitlock, but I did spend too much time with her. Time I should have spent with Doralice, and for that I'm sorry. I love my wife and my children, and I'll do anything I have to to make Doralice believe that."

"She's mighty angry with you right now." Maude hadn't told him anything he didn't already know.

"She's got every right to be. I acted like a schoolboy. I was an idiot, Maude, and I can only hope that if I give her enough time and space she'll forgive me."

"Where'd you stay last night?"

"My office. Not goin' to the hotel."

Maude halfway giggled. "I think that's best. By the way, Doralice is bringing the twins down here at noon tomorrow; we're goin' to lunch. I would imagine it could be arranged for them to spend a few minutes with their daddy – if he wanted to see them."

"Of course I do. I'd like to see Doralice, too – if she'll see me."

"It might be too soon. I'll find out from her."

There was one thing that was bothering him. "Why are you bein' so nice to me, Maude? I figured you'd have my head on a platter by now."

She was perfectly still for a moment; he could almost see her thinking. "I guess it's because . . . I've seen the way you look at my daughter. You're still in love with her. A man that looks like that at his wife ain't cheatin' on her with no scrawny widow woman. No matter what the widow woman looks like."

He worked late, then closed up for the night and went to Mamacita's for supper. When he was through he walked back to Maude's and decided to play some poker. There was really nothing else to do, and he stayed in the game until the sheriff came in lookin' for him. "I got an answer from Wells Fargo earlier than I expected. Mrs. Whitlock got on the stage in Baton Rouge. The depot manager remembers sellin' her the ticket himself. So at least you've got a startin' point."

"Thanks, Dave. Better than I had before." Bart had a couple friends and a cousin in Baton Rouge, he'd wire them in the morning to see what they could discover about Josephine. He was done for the night and headed for his office, grateful that he had a place to sleep that wasn't the hotel, where he might run into Mrs. Whitlock.

He was up early the next morning, going to the bathhouse to get cleaned up. With any luck at all he'd get to see his girls today, and he wanted to look his best. He tried to work but the closer it got to noon the more difficult it became to concentrate. When he finally heard their voices he made himself stay at his desk until Maude appeared at the door with his babies, then he could wait no more and gathered them into his arms. They were so beautiful and he'd missed them so much! Maudie tried to tell him everything that had happened since they saw him last; Belle just wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. It seemed like no time at all before Maude returned for them; Bart kissed them both and reluctantly gave them back to their grandmother. Before she turned to go he mouthed the word "Doralice?", but she shook her head 'no.' He was disappointed, but in all honesty had expected it. When they returned from lunch Maude called him over into her office, and he got to see them again while his wife went somewhere else in town. When she came back to the saloon to pick them up she left him a note. 'Bart – Be at the house at eight o'clock tonight and you can tuck them into bed. Maybe we can talk afterward. '

Outwardly calm, inside he was a nervous wreck as he knocked at the front door. Maude answered the door and held it open for him to enter. As soon as he got inside Maudie and Belle were once again in his arms, laughing and kissing him, holding on to him like they would never let him go. "You come to tuck us in bed, Daddy?"

"Yes, Maudie, darlin', I did indeed."

Bart helped them get dressed for bed, then picked out a story to read and tucked each one in. He kissed the girls goodnight and sat in the chair between the beds, reading until both were fast asleep. As quiet as a mouse, he got up and tip-toed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Doralice was sitting in the front room waiting for him. "There's fresh coffee on if you want some."

"Thanks." He poured himself a cup and sat down opposite her. They drank their coffee in silence until he asked, "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"I miss you and the girls."

"They miss you, too."

"How's Beauregard?"

"He's asleep already." She took another swallow of coffee before stating, "Mother says you didn't initiate the kiss."

"I didn't, Doralice."

She sat very still, with a blank look on her face. "I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry that you don't believe me, but it's the truth. I ran into her at the bakery and had just finished explaining that our friendship was being misconstrued, and I couldn't spend time with her anymore. That people were gossiping about us and it was hurting you, and I couldn't have that. If I had to choose between the two of you, the choice would always be you."

"And then you kissed her."

"No! She kissed me. She said it was supposed to be on the cheek, a 'thank you kiss,' and that she slipped and kissed me on the lips instead."

"Why should I believe you, Bart? I begged you not to spend time with the woman, that I didn't trust her. You ignored me. You seemed to care more about her feeling's than mine. She got more of your time and attention than we did. And now I'm supposed to believe what you're telling me rather than what I saw with my own eyes? I'm having trouble with that."

"I'm tellin' you the truth. I never wanted to hurt you, or upset you, or make you mad. I love you; only you. I swear to God, there's no life for me without you. Please, blue-eyes, I wanna come home. I'm miserable without you and the girls."

She got up off the settee and took her empty cup into the kitchen. "No, Bart, not right now. I'm still too mad at you to invite you back home with open arms. I think you better go now."

"But . . . "

"Time to leave." Doralice had walked back to the front door and held it open for him. "Go on, before you wake the girls."

Reluctantly he set his cup down on the table and made his way to the door. "When can I see the girls again?"

"Tomorrow night, the same time."

"And Beauregard?"

"Him, too."

"I love you, Doralice Maverick. I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you."

"Goodnight, Bart." She gave him just a little shove and closed the door behind him. He sighed and headed back down to Maude's. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been more miserable. How had he gotten himself into this mess? Better yet, how did he get out of it?


	14. Perfect

Chapter 13 – Perfect

In the next two days Bart heard from the friends he'd wired in Baton Rouge – neither one was able to find out anything about Josephine Whitlock. The only good thing that happened was Bart putting in an appearance both nights to read his angels a bedtime story and tuck them in bed. He didn't see Doralice either night; Maude was there both times.

"Is she ever gonna talk to me again?" Bart asked in desperation the second night.

"Oh, I would imagine so, eventually. She's not as angry as before; just give it some more time."

A groan emanated from Bart. He was in pain, which was obvious to anyone that knew him. "What more can I do, Maude? This is killin' me. I want my family back."

She patted his arm. "Don't give up. She'll come around."

Maude's words kept playing in his head over and over as he walked down the boardwalk. Maude seemed sure of what she was saying, but so far there'd been no attempt on Doralice's part to be anything but hostile to the man she'd married. As he was passing the telegraph office, Jimmy came running out, waving a piece of paper at him. "Mr. Maverick, wait! I've got a wire for you."

He stopped and read it before he went any further. It was from Cousin Beau. _'Bart – Can only find one J. Whitlock. Maiden name Chapman. Born and raised in Baton Rouge. No information available. Cousin Beau.'_ That certainly didn't provide any help. He pushed the paper into his coat pocket and went back to spend another quiet and lonely night at Maude's.

The next morning he was surprised when Pappy showed up at his office door around eleven o'clock. "Still sleepin' on the couch?"

"Come in, sit down. How are you? I'm fine," all said sarcastically. He waved Pappy over to a chair. "What are you doin' in town?"

"I had some business to take care of. Thought I'd stop by and see how things were goin'."

Bart shook his head. "That's just it. They're not goin'. Not at all. Doralice has talked to me once in the last week, and that was hostile, at best."

"Didn't get any answers from Baton Rouge?"

"Just one, from Cousin Beau." The wire was sitting on his desk; Bart handed it to Pappy.

Pappy looked at it for two or three minutes before he handed it back to Bart. "Chapman. That name is familiar, for some reason. Like I should know who it is, but I can't place it."

"If you think of a connection, let me know."

"Any chance of you joinin' me for lunch?"

"Now, you mean?"

Beauregard nodded. "Now would be good."

"Why not? Sawyer's alright with you?"

"Sure. I haven't been there for a while."

"Alright, let me lock up and tell Willie where we're goin'."

Beauregard strolled out into the saloon; Bart closed and locked his office door. When they got to the bar he stopped. "Goin' to Sawyer's with Pappy," he told Willie, and the two Mavericks walked through the batwing doors and up the boardwalk. They got a table in the back; Jeannie had just brought them coffee when the front door opened again, and Josephine Whitlock walked in.

Beauregard took one look and told Bart, "That must be the widow woman."

"It is," Bart answered quickly, nodding.

"Pretty thing, but sure not as pretty as Doralice."

"No, she's not."

"Almost looks familiar, like I said before. But I just can't remember who she reminds me of."

They ordered and talked about trivial things, Pappy doing his best to try and get Bart's mind off of the obvious. They were almost finished when Beauregard abruptly quit talking. His mind seemed to have wandered off somewhere, and it was two or three minutes before he said anything else. "Bartley, what was the name on that telegram again?"

"The one from Beau? Chapman. He said her maiden name was Josephine Chapman. Did you think of somethin'?"

"Yeah, I think so. Remember me tellin' you that Isabelle had a sister? Her name was Grace. She married a big brute of a man . . . if I remember he was a blacksmith. His name was Chapman. David, Dylan, Dennis, one of those. Josephine could be their daughter. She'd be about the right age."

"So what if she is their daughter? What has that got to do with me?"

"Maybe nothing. But maybe it has everything to do with you." Pappy left money for the bill and told Bart, "Just follow my lead."

When he got up he walked straight over to Josephine's table and sat down. "Mrs. Whitlock? I'm Beauregard Maverick. I'd like to speak with you for a few minutes if I could."

Josephine looked like she'd been waiting for Pappy to say something. "Of course, Mr. Maverick. Do you wish to speak here or someplace more private?"

"I think we would both prefer someplace more private. What about your office, Bart?"

An amused look settled itself on Josephine's face. "I am not going into a saloon, Mr. Maverick."

"My office has a rear entrance – a back door, if you would. We'd have complete privacy; no one would see us come or go. And both doors lock."

"Is that acceptable to you, Mrs. Whitlock?"

Josephine nodded. "It is." She paid her bill and the three of them left Sawyer's. They walked half a block and then went around the backside of the buildings; in less than five minutes they were at Bart's back door. He unlocked it and held it open for Josephine and Pappy, then locked it when they were all inside.

"I could stand some coffee, son. How about you, Mrs. Whitlock?"

"A cup of coffee would be welcome, Mr. Maverick."

Bart went to get coffee and wondered just what Pappy had in mind. "I'm in a meeting Willie, and shouldn't be disturbed. Not for anything, understand?" He picked up the tray that held a full coffee pot and three cups and headed back to his office. He set the tray down on his desk and relocked his office door. Pappy poured the coffee and handed a cup to Josephine before pouring one for Bart and, finally, himself. He waited until Bart had settled into a chair before he said anything.

"You know, Mrs. Whitlock, I have a nephew that lives in Baton Rouge, with his wife and children. Many, many years ago I had a sister-in-law that lived there, too. Her name was Grace Chapman. I believe her husband's name was Dylan; he was a blacksmith. You remind me a lot of Grace. You wouldn't by any chance be their daughter, would you?"

Her lips curled up into a smile behind her coffee cup, but she drank almost half her cup before she answered. "And Isabelle Grayson's niece . . . yes, as a matter of fact, I am Josephine Chapman. I'm surprised you figured it out so quickly."

"You do look like your mother . . . except for the coloring, that is. If I remember right, Grace's hair was much lighter in color than yours."

"And her eyes were hazel. My father's eyes were blue – or so my mother told me. He was gone by the time I was old enough to remember."

"Gone?"

"Moved out, gone away, disappeared, deserted my mother and me. It seems that a stranger showed up at their door one day, looking for my Aunt Isabelle, and my father suspected he was more than just a casual acquaintance of my mother's, also. When my mother finally admitted there had been a relationship, Dylan Chapman left and never returned. I'll wager you didn't know that, did you Mr. Maverick?"

Pappy shook his head. "No, Mrs. Whitlock, I didn't. I'm sorry that happened."

"We struggled after he left. There was never enough food, or heat, or money for shoes. And we never saw my father again."

She stopped her story and drank the rest of her coffee. "Any more questions, Mr. Maverick?"

"Why did you come to Little Bend?"

"I'm sure you've heard the Bible verse _"And the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the heads of the children, even unto the third and fourth generation."_ You, Mr. Maverick, are too old to extract revenge on. Your oldest son was not available. But your youngest son, with the perfect marriage and the perfect life, made the perfect scapegoat." She shifted her attention from father to son. "Sorry, Bart, but someone had to pay for the misery your father caused. You were the perfect target."


	15. Home

Chapter 14 – Home

Father and son were still sitting in Bart's office at Maude's, almost an hour after Josephine Whitlock had called Bart 'a scapegoat, a perfect target.' The widow had taken her leave of the pair, and Bart was dealing with the fact that he truly had been the innocent lamb led to slaughter. Here was a woman that had set out to ruin his marriage and his life, simply because his name was Maverick.

"What do I do now, Pappy? Doralice is never gonna believe me if I try and explain this to her."

"I don't think you should try. I'm the one that got you into this mess; I gotta try to get you out."

"That requires that you explain Grace."

Beauregard looked unhappy but resigned. "Then I'll have to sit your wife down and tell her what happened between Grace and me. That's the only way she's gonna understand the whole situation."

"I hope to God it works."

"I hope it does, too, son. But you have to understand that you're not blameless in this mess."

Bart had accepted the fact that he'd paid too much attention to Mrs. Whitlock and too little attention to Mrs. Maverick. "I've learned my lesson, Pappy. Nobody comes before my wife and family, no matter what the circumstances are."

"Good lesson to live by. Let me go see if I can explain all this to Doralice. Maybe she'll be willin' to talk to you after she hears what I have to say."

"Can you do that now, Pappy? I'd like to get this all straightened out sooner rather than later."

Beauregard stood up and headed out of the office. It only took a few minutes to get to the Maverick house, where Beau knocked heavily. Maria Elena answered the door and held it wide for him. "Señor Maverick, please. Señora will be right out."

"Where are the girls?" he asked Maria Elena.

"Nap time. Do you wish to see little Beau?"

"Yes, ma'am." Beauregard waited while Maria went to get the baby. She was soon back, and little Beau was delighted to be slipped into Pawpaw's waiting arms. "He's gettin' big, ain't he?"

"He is, Grandpa. What brings you by today?" Doralice had emerged from the bedroom, kissed Beauregard on the cheek, and sat down on the settee. Beau took a seat across from her.

"Besides wantin' to see this fella? I've got some information that you need to hear."

"If it's about Bart, I'd rather not right now." There was no anger or annoyance in her words, and Beau continued.

"It is, indirectly, but mostly about me. I need to tell you a story that you haven't heard before, about somethin' that happened a long time ago, so that you'll understand somethin' that happened recently. You up for it?"

She sighed. "I suppose."

"Maria, can you come take the baby?" Beauregard asked, and little Beau was soon back with his nanny.

"There's a long, sad story here, so I'm not gonna fill you in on every detail. I'm sure I'm gonna come off lookin' like a cad, but if you knew the whole thing I'm not sure I would look any better. Isabelle was the love of my life, but that don't mean our life was perfect. We had a lotta ups and downs; we lost a baby girl named Elizabeth, and we each blamed ourselves for it. Isabelle had a younger sister named Grace, and while Belle and me was split up, I turned to Grace. Biggest mistake of my life. It took almost two years before me and Belle found our way back to each other; in that time Grace married a blacksmith named Chapman. They had a baby named Josephine."

Doralice let out a small gasp. "Josephine? That Josephine?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sometime later Chapman found out about my night with Grace and used it as an excuse to leave her. I guess Grace and Josephine didn't have it easy after that, and the child grew up blamin' me for her daddy's disappearance."

"What has all that got to do with Bart?"

Beauregard cleared his throat and continued. "Bart and me just had a long talk with Mrs. Whitlock. Seems she came to Little Bend with a plan in mind . . . a plan to take her revenge out on a Maverick."

"Which Maverick?"

"Ah, there's the rub. According to her I was too old, and Bret wasn't around. That left . . . "

"Bart."

"Exactly. She was determined to destroy his life and ruin his marriage."

"She should be congratulated. She succeeded at both."

"Only if you let her."

"Beauregard – "

"Listen to me, Doralice. Bartley is profoundly sorry for everything that happened. He knows he paid too much attention to a woman that wasn't his wife, and not enough attention to the woman that was. You know how he feels about the children; it's just about killin' him not to be here with all of you. And there's one more thing."

"What's that, Beauregard?"

"It's how much he loves you. No matter what he did or didn't do, he's never for a moment stopped loving you."

She murmured very quietly, "I know that." She didn't look up. "I never thought he did. But he stopped thinking about me and our family. We weren't the most important thing in the world to him anymore. He didn't have time for us."

"Can't you find it in your heart to forgive him?"

Doralice had tears in her eyes as she looked at her father-in-law. "You know I will."

"Can you do it soon?"

She almost giggled. "Are you going back to Maude's?"

"When I leave here, yes."

"Send him home, Pawpaw. Send him home."

XXXXXXXX

Bart looked up as soon as he heard boots coming his way. It was Pappy, and Bart could assume nothing from the look on his face. "Well? How did she take t? Will she talk to me? Say somethin', Pa!"

"I explained everything to her, son."

"What did she say?"

"She told me. . . to send you home."

"She told you . . . she did?"

"Yes, she did."

Bart sat at his desk, frozen. Beauregard tried not to laugh, and didn't wait long before asking, "What are you waiting for?"

Bart got up from his desk, put on his coat and hat, grinned at his father and ran out the door. Beau left the office, closing the door behind him. He stopped at the bar long enough to tell Willie, "Don't expect him back today." Wearing a big smile, Beauregard strode through the batwing doors, untied his horse, and headed home. The smile never left his face.


	16. Family

Chapter 15 – Family

Bart was bent over breathing hard when Doralice answered the door. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

"Nothing," he gasped out. "I ran . . . all the way . . . here."

"Silly man," she responded as she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the house. Bart had barely gotten in the door when Beauregard let out a wail that woke the twins. As soon as they heard their father's voice, they came running to the front room like miniature tornadoes. In less than a minute they'd both jumped on him, and all three went tumbling to the ground. He tickled first Maudie and then Belle, and they all rolled around on the floor and giggled. "Girls, let daddy get up," Doralice pleaded, and they reluctantly did so. "Maria!" Doralice called, shorthand for "come get the girls, please," and the young woman took them out into the backyard.

Doralice gave Bart a hand and helped pull him up off the floor. "Are you alright? Why did you run?"

"Because," he began as he stood up with her help, "you told Pappy to send me home. So he did."

"There was no need for you to run," she told him firmly. "I only meant for you to come home so we could talk."

His face fell. "Just talk?"

"To start," she explained. "I have fresh coffee, would you like some?"

"Yes, please," he responded. "I must say, that was an enthusiastic greeting."

"The twins, you mean? They're thrilled to see you." Beauregard issued another howl. "I guess I better go see what our boy wants."

Doralice got up to check on Beauregard and Bart went after the coffee. He brought two cups back to the table; she brought the baby. "He doesn't appear to need anything. Do you want to hold him?"

"Of course I do," he answered swiftly, and took his little man from Doralice.

"Beauregard explained to me the relationship he had with Grace, and everything that happened. It's a shame things worked out the way they did. I cannot imagine what kind of a person it takes to demand revenge like that."

"Or what kind of a person it takes to execute revenge like that." Beauregard gurgled in his father's arms. "When do you suppose he's gonna try to crawl?"

"Oh, heavens, he's already tried. It takes him a while to get going, but he manages. He started doin' that, well, right after you moved to Maude's."

While they'd talked, the baby had fallen asleep again. Bart felt an overwhelming sense of sadness; he'd missed out on Beau's first accomplishments. "What do we do now?" he asked his wife.

"I think we have some decisions to make, Bart, about where we go from here."

"I want to move back home, blue-eyes. And I want to do it today."

She was happy to hear him say it, even though he'd already shown her that was what he wanted. "I want you to move back today, but . . . things can't be the way they were."

His head bobbed up and down. "I know that. I've learned the hard way that my time and attention needs to be spent on my family first, before anything or anybody gets in the way. There's plenty of single men around to provide help to the widow ladies. And somewhere along the way I forgot to tell you what was goin' on, so you'd know what to expect. I'm sorry that I let you down when you needed my love and support. But you have to remember this, darlin', I'd never cheat on you. Never."

"I know that, and I think I knew all along who was responsible for the kiss . . . but I was so hurt, to see you with that woman. And if I'd known you intended to stop spending time with her . . . I probably wouldn't have reacted the way I did. This has got to be a partnership, Bart; an equal partnership. Nothing else will work. I have to know that you'll be there when I need you. I won't ever go through this again. If I ever tell you to leave . . . I won't be askin' you back."

Beauregard began to cry, and Doralice held out her hands and got up from the table as she took the baby. "I'm goin' to feed him. Think about what I said."

Bart drained his coffee cup and did just that – thought about everything his wife told him. He couldn't forget her making it plain that if he ever pushed her up against a wall again, there'd be no turning back. He knew exactly how Pappy felt when Momma told him to get out and shot him. The only thing he could be grateful for was that his situation with Doralice hadn't gotten that far out of hand. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind . . . his wife meant every word she said.

When Doralice returned to the kitchen, she was doing her best to burp Beauregard, who was doing his best to ignore his mother's efforts. "Here, let me have him," Bart pleaded as he covered his shoulder with a towel. Sure enough, it took only a few seconds before the littlest Maverick cooperated fully with his father's efforts.

"I don't know what you do differently than I do . . . but it sure works better with him." Even though Doralice was smiling, she looked confused.

"See, you need me here just to take care of the boy."

Doralice shook her head. "I need you here for a lot more than that, Bart. But I need to know that I can count on you, that we're always gonna be first with you."

Bart had laid Beauregard down in his cradle and walked back to where his wife stood. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her tenderly, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "You and these babies that we've made are the most important things in my life. I give you my word that I will never let anything else get in the way of our family again."

"Why don't you go get your things from Maude's while I fix supper?"

Bart grinned. "I was hopin' you'd ask me to do that."

XXXXXXXX

They were relaxing on the settee, Bart's left arm draped carefully around his wife's shoulders, Doralice resting comfortably against Bart's chest. The girls were in bed asleep, Beauregard had been fed, burped, and was currently headed the same way as his sisters, Bart's suitcases were unpacked, and all his clothes were back where they belonged. There was a fire in the fireplace and the dishes were done. Bart had never been quite as content as he was right now.

"Is she gonna leave town?" Doralice asked out of nowhere.

"Who?"

"The widow Whitlock."

"I would think so. Ain't no reason for her to stay."

"What about the piece of property she bought?"

"Don't know, don't care."

Doralice had one more question for him. "Are you still gonna run for a spot on the town council?"

Bart was quiet for a minute before he answered. "No, I don't think so. Not right now. Maybe the next time there's a seat open."

"That could be a while."

"I can wait. I have more important things to take care of right now."

"Oh? And those would be?"

"The people I love."

Doralice sighed contentedly. "Good answer, Bartley."

TBC


	17. The Departure

Epilogue – The Departure

It had taken longer than she expected, but she'd accomplished what she'd set out to accomplish. Bart and Doralice Maverick's marriage was irretrievably broken, and the rest of the man's life was in ruins right along with it. Best of all, Beauregard Maverick knew who had done it, and why.

' _I took care of it, Mama,'_ she thought to herself as she made her way down the staircase of the Little Bend Hotel. _'You'd be surprised how easy it was.'_ The man that had been at the front desk when she arrived so many weeks ago was there now.

"I'll be checking out, Mr. Green."

"Sorry to see you go, Mrs. Whitlock. Was everything to your satisfaction?"

"Quite, Mr. Green. I'm pleased with the way everything fell into place for me."

"Will you be visiting us again, Mrs. Whitlock?"

She shook her head. "No, Mr. Green, I don't believe so." She paid her bill and picked up her suitcase. "Thank you, Mr. Green."

"Thank you, Mrs. Whitlock. Have a pleasant trip."

"I shall."

The coach was almost ready to leave Little Bend. She handed her lone suitcase to the driver and climbed on board. She was the only passenger.

As the stagecoach drove up the street, it passed a man walking up the boardwalk, carrying two suitcases and a war bag. He was whistling and had a smile on his face. It was just dark enough outside that she couldn't quite make out who it was, but she would have sworn that the man was someone she knew. Oh well, her work here in Little Bend, Texas, was finished.

The End


End file.
